Soulbroken Page 8

  But what if I'd been wrong in my assumption that she'd been crying over the loss of her daughter? Maybe she'd been crying over plans that I'd not been told. Plans where they immediately left Kessler for who knows where. They'd known what the Elder Barrons were capable of. Maybe it was a wise choice to pick up and leave without telling me where they were going. After all, they didn't know if I could resist revealing their secret to Quill. So why trust me with it? Why burden their daughter with a secret that could only harm her in the end?

  They wouldn't. They would go, if that was the smartest thing to do. And they would trust that their daughter would be able to take care of herself until a time came that they could reunite with her without the threat of the Zettai Council looming over their heads.

  But what if that day never came?

  I set my satchel and katana down on the floor beside the fireplace, marveling that the floor itself remained quite clean despite the dust on every other surface, and rearranged the cold, half-burnt logs inside, taking a moment to open the flue before lighting a fire with the flint on the mantel. It took a moment, but the fire soon roared to life, casting a warm glow on the memory of my home. Above the mantel hung my mother's most prized possession, the tapestry she'd been embroidering since I was just a baby. It was a common task for households--generally for the Healer parent in a household--to create such maps, marking on them areas that carried special meaning to them. But my mother did nothing in a small way. She set out to embroider all of Tril in her lifetime.

  It was a massive endeavor, and something she only worked on in moments of stress. As fishing was to my father, needlework was a source of calming relief for my mother. I admired her for her craft, but didn't have the patience for it myself. I'd watched her pour over a single mis-stitch for an hour, groaning over the exactness of her task, and the perfection which it required. Not that her task was without reward. The tapestry was a breathtaking rendition of a map of Tril, featuring all three continents--Haruko, Kaito, and Kokoro. It had been an ongoing project for as long as I could remember. Whenever a new village would sprout up or a new road was built, my mother would lovingly stitch them into place. But, in my memory, she hadn't worked on the tapestry since weeks before Headmaster Quill's letter had been slipped under their door.

  The embroidery floss that made up much of the map had faded over time, but strangely, there were new places added. Each marked in bright, new floss that hadn't yet had a chance to fade. Places that didn't make much sense at all. The village of Drago was there now, where it hadn't been a part of her creation before I'd left home. It gave me a smile to see it. I'd travelled to Drago on countless occasions with my mother, mostly on journeys to trade her fabrics for other supplies. Drago was much larger than Kessler, so the variety of supplies there was incredible. It was a good day whenever she asked that I come along and help her carry her wares, and not just because she always purchased me a creamcake from one of the foodcarts when we were finished browsing and making our purchases. Drago was full of life in a way that Kessler was not. During the day, there was a hustle and bustle on the streets as travelers passed through town. And as the sun began to set, jugglers and fire-breathers took center stage, entertaining anyone who was willing to reward them with a few trinks. In many ways, Drago was a magical place. At least it had been, to me.

  Okumatte was also on the map now, and I couldn't help but wonder why it hadn't been before. As my father's birthplace, it seemed like an obvious choice as something to grace my mother's embroidered map. But it was here now, bold as ever, and far to the left of the map on a very small peninsula. It stirred a childhood memory up for me—one in which my father had spent hours trying to get me to pronounce Okumatte correctly, but the closest I could manage at four years old was something that sounded like “oh-kee-may”. The memory left me with a small smile. Just seeing The name Okumatte made me think of Trayton, and wonder how he was fairing without me. Would he be happy to see me again? Or angry? A mix of both, I surmised. I had, after all, broken a ton of Protocol in my pursuit of him.

  My eyes scanned the map, seeking out any further changes. And there, black as night, she'd freshly stitched in Wood's Cross--something I'd never thought she'd ever include on her map. Since the day she lost her Healer, my mother hadn't spoken of Wood's Cross. That she'd actually embroidered it into her grand work of art shocked me. I hadn't realized that my fingers had found my lips in surprise until I pulled them away again.

  As shocking as it was to see Wood's Cross portrayed, it was nothing compared to the place I saw included at the far right of her map. I had to read it twice, just to be certain of what my eyes were seeing. But there it was, in red, the color of blood. King Darrek's fortress.

  But why?

  And if my parents had disappeared the night that I'd left for Shadow Academy, then why was the floor so clean? Had they returned just long enough to re-hang the tapestry and display its new artistry? Were the new additions a message for someone? For me, maybe? What did it all mean?

  A yawn forced itself up and out of my body, and I stretched to go along with it. The long trek from Shadow Academy had left me exhausted, and at the moment, all I wanted to do was sleep. In my own bed. In my own room. Far away from Headmaster Quill and all the problems that came with him.

  With a giddy tickle in my chest, despite all the tensions of the day, I doused the fire and climbed the stairs to my loft. My room was just as I'd left it, with books stuffed onto the shelves along the walls, and a pile of childhood toys staring at me from the chair in the corner. I shook my covers free from dust and collapsed into bed. I didn't know what I was going to do tomorrow. I only knew that for now, for this moment, and hopefully the rest of the night, I was home. I promised myself that I wouldn’t sleep, just rest a little. In my bed. Where, as a child, I knew that nothing and no one could harm me.

  Chapter 10

  A strong hand closed firmly over my wrist in the darkness and yanked me from my bed, from warm, familiar dreams, launching my heart into a series of uncontrollable, terrified rhythms. Somehow, despite my determination to remain awake, I’d fallen asleep. Deep enough that a stranger had been able to climb into the loft and grab me. Someone in the distance, on the main floor, if my ears could be trusted, shouted, "Have you got her?"

  I kicked and flailed my sleep-heavy body against my attacker’s advances, raising my free hand and punching him right in the jaw. He swore loudly and gripped both of my wrists in his hands before flipping me over his broad shoulder. Despite my wriggling, he dragged me toward the steps and down. In my half-asleep state, all I could summon were panicked physical responses. All that Darius had taught me about escaping an enemy's grasp was gone, muddied by my tired brain. I pounded on his back, trying to break free, but the man had me. Shadows upon shadows greeted me in the still-dark living area. I couldn't make out any of the intruders in the darkness, but one thing was clear: they intended to harm me, and there was little I could do about it.

  The man who was carrying me had a deep voice, and spoke to the others with an air of authority. "She's a little thing. I wonder why they'd send four of us. Seems one could handle her."

  A second voice in the dark snorted. "When have you ever known the Council to send out one Barron on a collection mission?"

  Cursing myself for having drifted off to sleep, I realized how dire my situation was. These Barrons had been sent here by Quill, to take me back to Shadow Academy at any cost. My mission to find my parents, and then Trayton and Darius, was being cut short, if I didn’t do something…and fast.

  My carrier shrugged, shifting my weight some. I wriggled, but he clamped his large hands down on my hips, holding me still. "I'm just saying, she looks relatively harmless to me."

  There was a distinct pause before a third voice chimed in. A quiet voice. One that made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "Pretty too."

  "Let me get a look." A young Barron with wild red hair stepped into view then, illuminated by the moonlight that wa
s pouring in through the front window. He examined my face for a moment before smiling. "Hmm...you are a pretty thing."

  The Barron who was carrying me turned his head to the side, but I could barely make out his features. His hair was long, blonde, and tied back with a thong, his nose large. "What's so dangerous about you that we've been sent here to collect you, sweetness?"

  Growling, I kicked my feet uselessly. "Put me down and I'll show you. Call me by a pet name again and I'll show you twice."

  "Feisty one, this. We'd better be careful." A newly-born smirk appeared on the redhead's face.

  "Come on." A fourth Barron spoke, and as my eyes adjusted at last to the darkness, I could see him standing near the fireplace, his black hair tied in a braid, arms crossed in front of him. "Headmaster Quill is expecting delivery of this girl to Shadow Academy before the sun rises."

  The redhead turned to the Barron by the fireplace, rolling his eyes. "You're no fun tonight, Avan. What's got you so frazzled?"

  And Avan did seem frazzled. Of the three Barrons that I could see, he seemed the most tense. Something told me he was in a hurry, and not a fan of lingering about when there was a job to do. "I don't like being in an Unskilled town, surrounded by Unskilled people. Ignorance is a dangerous thing, Locke. Give me a Graplar any day."

  Locke raised an eyebrow. "You don't think Graplars are ignorant?"

  "Graplars are stupid. It's not the same thing. But then, I don't expect you to understand the difference."

  "Are you calling me stupid?"

  At the same moment, both Avan and Locke puffed out their chests. The scene might have been comical if I weren't being lugged around like a rolled up rug.

  "Here we go." The quieter voice spoke once again, this time while releasing a sigh."Not again." The blonde Barron sat me roughly down on the floor and turned to face Avan and Locke, who were throwing furious punches. Their ruckus filled the room with sound, and the blonde had to force his way between them, but it wasn't doing much to stop their brawl. "Stop already, you two! Let's just get the girl back to Shadow Academy, and get home already. It's been a long enough night without you two getting into another fistfight!"

  Dropping to my knees, I inched over to the fireplace and slipped my katana over my shoulder as quietly as I could manage. If I could manage to escape without engaging four Barrons, it would be a miracle, but I had to try. But in case I couldn't, I had to have that weapon on me, because I didn't expect them to back down easily. They'd been sent here on a mission to collect me, and I didn't think Quill would mind if they returned me a little worse for the wear. As I crawled toward the front door, thankful for their raised voices and the complete darkness of the cabin, I held my breath, hoping that they wouldn't notice me, and that their petty argument would be enough to keep their interest in me at bay. I was a foot from the door, maybe two. So close, I could almost taste freedom. I didn't know what would happen once I reached the outside or how long I could possible evade them. I just knew that in a matter of inches, I would be free.

  "Where do you think you're going, pretty one?" My heart stopped for a moment. I recognized the speaker, though I hadn't seen his face. He scared me, this Barron that I had yet to see. But I couldn't exactly identify why. I froze, and when he grabbed my arm and hoisted me to standing, I followed without fighting.

  His eyes were large and dark, his lips thin, matching the rest of him. In another situation, I might have labeled him a handsome young man. But the way he was looking over me, his eyes smoldering, he was anything but handsome. He was dangerous, and I had to fight to gather my wits so that I could escape him before he caused me any real harm. When I spoke, my voice didn't come out sounding as forceful as it had in my head. Instead, it sounded more like a whimper. "Let me go."

  "They'll be at it for a while. Maybe you and I should continue our conversation in private." His fingers dug into my arm as he yanked me out the door, moving so fast that I didn't have a chance to cry out. Just a moment ago, I'd been trying desperately to exit that door, but now I wanted more than anything to stay inside the cabin. Once outside, the door closed and he slammed me against it. My head bounced sharply against the wooden frame, and for a moment, the world around me spun, dazed. By the time I recovered from the pain, I realized how close he was standing. Too close. With one strong hand holding my arm tightly and another pressing my hip against the building. He watched the front window with some interest, as if wondering if his fellow Barrons would care to investigate the noise further. Apparently satisfied that they would not, he turned his attention back to me. His breath was hot on my neck. "You really are a pretty thing. Would you like to give me a kiss?"

  My fear turned to fury and I spat in his face. "Only if it's the kiss of my blade against your throat!"

  His eyes darkened more, and I knew that if I didn't get away from him, I was in serious danger. He leaned forward, kissing my neck. I could feel the bile gathering in my throat. Then he whispered in my ear, "I think it's safe to say we should take that katana off. And...what else can we take off?"

  He slid the hand on my hip upward, and the moment I felt it on my ribcage, I brought my knee up hard.

  Say what you will about Barrons. They are the toughest of the tough. But one thing that my father taught me about all men: if you hit them hard enough in the crotch, they're going down, Barron or not.

  As he bent over in pain, I bolted down the path the led to the road. My feet hit the ground in a sprint, and I made my way south before cutting behind the blacksmith shop and hitting the trails. Behind me, voices cried out. Apparently my new friend was calling in some back-up.

  "She's getting away!"

  "How did she get outside?"

  "Just go after her! That way!"

  No one knew about the trails. Not unless they lived in Kessler. And even then, only the youngest residents ever really used them. Three trails ran along the hillside that marked one edge of the village, each one carving a different level into the hill. Between each were rocks, boulders, trees and brush. The bottom trail, the one closest to town, was well hidden by tall, thick bushes. At night, the trails were empty and dark--precisely what I wanted as I maneuvered my way south. If these Barrons were going to track me, I had to throw them off, had to give them a sense of where I was going, without revealing the truth behind my movements. I wanted to go northwest, so I had to send them south in their search for me. The easiest way to do that was on the trails.

  After reaching the section of the bottom trail that ran closest to the market area, I stopped, both to catch my breath, and to listen. Somewhere behind me--though not by much--I could hear the Barrons arguing. The one who'd cornered me sounded positively villainous in his cursing of me. Looking back, I wished that I'd hurt him more. He richly deserved it. Even Trayton, who wholly believed in upholding Protocol, might have looked the other way as I exacted a bit of vengeance on my attacker. Darius, on the other hand, likely would have beat the boy to a pulp, much to my approval. The man was beyond a dek, beyond anything else evil and vile that I had ever encountered.

  Scrambling my steps purposefully in the dirt, I turned and slid down the small hill, sliding until my feet stopped just short of Kessler's main thoroughfare. Then, as carefully and lightly as I could manage, I took several steps north, keeping my feet on the large stones that lined the wooded area I was hidden in. I moved carefully back up the hill, my heart racing at the sound of their voices coming closer. Stepping into the footsteps I'd left on the trail previously, I hopped my way to the woods on the other side of the trail, and moved up the hill, until I came to the second trail. I crept around the rocks beside it and crouched down, hoping that the darkness and what I'd learned about tracking from Darius would be enough to help me evade my captors. I couldn't be sure. This was all guess work. What Darius had taught me had been all about tracking Graplars, not humans. But I couldn't imagine them to be such different things to do. All I could do now was wait, and, if nothing else, defend myself with a sharp blade and a will to rem
ain free.

  As they approached, they stopped speaking, and if I hadn't grown accustomed to hearing Darius move about so lightly on his feet, I might not have been able to detect their movement at all. But they were moving. Two of them, anyway. Two had stopped on the trail below me, and the other two had moved up the hill, following the tracking signs that I'd created. After some time, the sounds of the second group faded as they followed the higher trail in search of me. It only took a moment for one of the remaining Barrons to speak again. "Fak! Where'd she go?"

  "She's here. I can smell her." It was my attacker speaking then, and as he spoke, I could still vaguely feel his hands on me.

  Avan snorted down the hill. It sounded like he was speaking from somewhere far away. "You cannot. You're such a liar."

  Locke shouted back up to him, "At least he's not stupid."

  There was a grumble between them, but it ceased the moment my attacker placed a hand against Locke’s chest, as if signaling them all to stop talking, stop breathing, stop doing anything that would interfere with his hearing. Then, in a move that sent my heart racing in panic, he raised his chin and locked eyes with me, his lips brushed with a smile. “Hello again, pretty one.”

  Locke wasted no time. He scrambled up the hill, navigating the sharp rocks with ease. His feet found footholds that I never would have imagined, and panic seized me. He was coming for me. And when he caught me, who knew what would happen?